Do you know why?"
"I suppose it was horror of more blood."
"I don't think so. I believe it was just for this--for this very
talk I'm having now with you. I saved you then so that some day I
might demand you as hostage.
"I want you to vote with me," she continued, "for the 'higher law.'
I want you to vote with the west-bound wheels, with God's blades of
grass!"
"God! woman! You have gift of tongues! Now listen to me. Which
shall we train with, among your northern men, John Quincy Adams or
William Lloyd Garrison, with that sane man or the hysterical one?
Is Mr. Beecher a bigger man than Mr. Jefferson was?"
"I know you're honest," she said, frowning, "but let us try to see.
There's Mr. Birney, of Alabama, a Southerner who has gone over,
through all, to the abolitionists as you call them. And would you
call Mr. Clay a fool? Or Mr. Benton, here in your own state, who--"
"Oh, don't mention Benton to me here! He's anathema in this state."
"Yet you might well study Mr.
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